


where i'm meant to be

by kinneyb



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Fluff with a hint of angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26719618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Zuko thinks he might finally have a family, however unconventional.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 82





	where i'm meant to be

**Author's Note:**

> written for one of my supporters!
> 
> twitter: queermight / korrwrites  
> tumblr: korrmin

Zuko had never had a father. Not really. Ozai had been many things, but never a father. Not to him, at least, and even then his relationship with Azula had hardly been fatherly, but more like a mentor and a student. (For better or worse. Usually worse.)

Maybe that was why he was so intrigued by Hakoda.

When he joined them, and saw for the first time the way a father could - should - be to his children, he was angry. Jealous.

Hakoda cared for Sokka and Katara, looked at them like they were his world.

Occasionally Zuko would stumble upon Hakoda and Sokka in the woods, the morning sun warm on the back of his neck. They’d be sparring, laughing as they did it, like it was something to be enjoyed. When Sokka would mess up, Hakoda would gently tease him. He never yelled, or ridiculed him.

Zuko’s stomach would turn, scar burning, as he remembered the many times he had sparred with his father. Every session had ended in pain, but not for Sokka and his father.

Other mornings he’d watch as Hakoda comforted Katara after what Zuko could only guess was a restless night, dark circles under her eyes. Hakoda would hold her, rubbing her back. Everyone else would avert their eyes with respect for the private moment, but not Zuko.

He was jealous, and confused, but more than that he was relieved to know not every person had grown up like him. Some were even lucky enough to have a father that cared deeply for them.

He supposed the jealous would never fully subside, a constant ache in his chest, the hopes of what could’ve been, but he could live with it.

*

It was a couple weeks after joining the group that Zuko was approached by Hakoda. It was early, and Zuko was surprised to fo find Hakoda was already up by the fire. The others were still sleeping. He wished he could sleep longer, tired, but the nightmares - even now - were unforgiving, harsh and cold, haunting the back of his eyelids.

He approached the fire, a little stiff, a tight curl of anxiety in his gut, because frankly he struggled to be around father figures, his own or otherwise, a fault he was embarrassed by. But Hakoda looked up once he was close enough, a small smile on his face.

He looked so much like Sokka and Katara, clear blue eyes and dark hair. Zuko despised that he held those same features of his father.

“Good, you’re up,” Hakoda said, like they had planned for this. He stood up and stretched before grabbing the pot, putting it over the burning fire.

Zuko blinked owlishly, waiting, not understanding.

“You need some food in your stomach first,” he said. “Sit.”

Zuko nodded dumbly, sitting on one of the logs. He watched, silent and confused, as Hakoda prepared a morning stew for them. Once the stew was finished, and the whole hillside smelled like herbs and spices, the others joined them, obviously pulled by the smell.

“So,” Sokka said brightly after they were all finished, “Dad, did you want to—?”

Before he could even finish his inquiry, Hakoda had interrupted, a hand on his shoulder, “I actually wanted to spend the morning with Zuko,” he said, like that was just a normal thing to do. What was even stranger, to Zuko, was that Sokka didn’t seem nearly as shocked as he would’ve thought. He just nodded.

Hakoda stood up after that, clapping his hands together. “Follow me?”

Zuko could only nod as he stood up and followed him away from camp; Hakoda took him to a clearing not far from their camp and Zuko recognized the spot: he had seen Hakoda and Sokka sparring here many times.

“Feel up to a bit of a sparring?” Hakoda asked, smiling slightly. Zuko blinked, unsure. Sparring was—fine, sure. If it was Sokka, or Aang, or even Katara, he’d be up for it, but this was Hakoda. Their father. His uncertainly was just doubled by Hakoda’s quick reply to say, “We don’t have to—I just thought you might enjoy it.”

So unlike his father. Giving _choices_.

Zuko nodded quickly, squaring his shoulders. “No bending, I’m assuming,” he said, and Hakoda smiled again.

“I’m sure I could beat you even with it,” he assured him, and Zuko was unable to suppress a small smile of his own.

Afterwards Zuko was a sweaty mess in desperate need of a wash. Thankfully there was a stream not too far from camp that he would definitely be visiting later. They walked back to camp together.

“You’re just a kid,” Hakoda said suddenly. He slowed to a stop, and Zuko did the same, watching him. His face was tight, eyes oddly wistful as he looked off to the side. “All of you are, and I can’t imagine having so much on my shoulders even now, at my old ripe age. At your age, I would’ve had no idea what to do, but you’re all… well, incredible.”

He turned to Zuko.

“And your father was a coward,” spit with pure hatred that Zuko understood, “but you have proven to be _nothing_ like him.” A hand on his shoulder. Zuko’s chest was tight, eyes stinging. “You deserved better, son. A lot of you do, and I can only hope I’m able to help in any small way that I can. Not just Sokka and Katara, but all of you.”

Zuko suddenly understood the real purpose of all this. It wasn’t just to hone their skills.

“You’re an incredible father,” Zuko blurted, never too good with words but it was the simple enough truth.

Hakoda smiled, nudging him as they continued the path back to camp. Zuko stiffened for a second, not used to the playful banter, before quickly relaxing. “It takes a lot of effort,” he admitted, “but it’s worth it.”

Stopping close enough that Zuko could overhear the chatter of the others, Hakoda placed a hand back on his shoulder, eyes suddenly serious but still kind.

“If you ever need anything, just let me know,” he said, and Zuko tried to remember if his father had ever said those words. His uncle, certainly, and he hadn’t truly appreciated the sentiment then, but never his father.

Zuko nodded quickly, chest warm and tight. “Thank you,” he said, surprised by how much he meant it.

He thought of all the moments he had witnessed, that had felt private, between Hakoda and Sokka. Or Hakoda and Katara. Even Aang and Toph, if he thought about it, how Hakoda would always laugh loudly at their lame jokes. Could he have that as well, despite his past? Despite very evidently not being part of Hakoda’s family.

He hoped so, he realized. He wanted desperately to be a part of this makeshift family.


End file.
